


Not exactly a first date

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [14]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: AKA, I'm afraid, M/M, OR IS IT, in the past tense, maybe you should think twice about screwing your target, mention of canon typical violence, not-quite established relationship, some drama, work-life conflict of a spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Theron finds himself on a slippery slope and with an uncomfortable decision to make.





	Not exactly a first date

 

 

It starts rather innocuous. Not that it isn’t. It’s nothing special. Nothing to make a fuss about.

Sar’s just… he _is_ kind of handsome. And decent in bed. And he has this wicked sense of humor that you could use for a mynock-deterrent.

He’s alright, for a Sith.

He’s also somehow not offended by the idea of Theron trying to get the better of him and tumbling between his sheets in the process.

Long story short, it happens again. And again.

Theron will admit that it becomes a bit of a habit.

It’s just… easy. That’s it, it’s easy.

They’ll run into each other, the base isn’t that big and he _is_ supposed to keep an eye on the man. One thing leads to another.

It works. Sometimes they’ll chat a bit, about everyday things. Lesson plans or whether Theron thinks Sar’s co-worker is secretly a Revanite or something equally reprehensible that he could use to blackmail him into giving full-contact sparring a go. Safe topics.

There are no uncomfortable questions he has to skirt, no ‘where have you been’, ‘where are you going’, ‘when will you be back’ or his all-time favorite, ‘isn’t your last name the same as that Jedi big-shot?’

Easy.

Only somewhere along the line Sar becomes ‘Yon’.

And Yon isn’t only decent company and good in bed, he also knows the answer when Theron asks, “Hey, have you seen my low-bandwidth frequency scanner?”

The Sith brushes past him with a laugh and gives him a peck on the cheek. “Have you tried looking under the sink?”

“Why would it be under the sink?”

“You're asking _me_?”

 

… yes. It's possible Theron is in a bit of trouble.

 

That finally occurs to him when he’s fixing himself a cup of the instant caf Yon doesn't drink but always keeps around these days, contemplating how he really should get a backup toothbrush. It's such a pain to walk all the way to his own quarters to get his.

He stares at his caf and realizes he’s _dating a Sith_.

 _H_ _as been_ dating a Sith for… for…

“Yon?”

“Hm?”

“How long have we been-" _A couple._ He might suck at this but he's _not_ asking that. "When did we,” _Get together, oh Force_. “Meet?”

His _boyfriend_ unglues his bleary attention from his data pad. Not a morning person, that one, unless he wakes to an emergency. It's a little adorable.

Theron swallows that thought and doesn't panic. He _doesn't_.

“Are we doing anniversaries now?” Whatever expression is on his face, he has no idea, Yon musters it.  Then he says, hesitantly, “I mean we can. I’ll warn you in advance I’ll need a head start, though.”

“That’s- that’s okay." So, that’s a thing. _They_ are a thing _._

“Do we count the time you're on missions? Kind of makes or breaks this answer.”

“If we did?”

“Five months ago.”

“Oh.”

Yes, oh. As in _oh fuck_.

 

Apparently, Theron is dating. That in itself would be revelation enough.

The ‘Sith’ part makes things… problematic.

The worst of it though? He still hasn’t finished his _mission_.

Somehow it never came up. Or Yon is just good enough at glossing over the topic.

_Is there a polite way to ask your loosely-defined significant other if he’s a traitor waiting to happen?_

Void and stars, Theron hopes the answer is ‘no’.

 

 

As it turns out, Yon _is_ just that good at skirting any hint of ‘Well, how exactly _do_ you feel about working under the man who’s the reason you’re missing half your natural limbs?’

Not that Theron has been able to bring himself to ask this way. It might be his own fault he’s not getting answers. But… fact is: Yon deflects.

Sometimes he does it with humor, sometimes with nonchalance that might or might not be fake. Maybe he just doesn’t like to talk about it. A perfectly reasonable assumption.

Only, that doesn’t help his maybe-possibly-boyfriend with his dilemma.

In all honesty, Theron feels like a complete asshole for pushing, for continuously pressing a button that might be a hairy topic for someone he… cares… about.

_Shit. This is why I don’t get involved with targets long term._

You’d think he had learned that lesson. There really is only one thing left to do, isn’t there?

 

 

“So, what are the chances you’ll take a shot at our Commander?”

Prepared as he is, he catches the way Yon’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, before surprise smooths over his face. There’s a spark of anger and then his expression closes off. Completely.

It’s… something.

If Theron hasn’t unlearned every tell he knows, he isn’t only not going to, it hadn’t occurred to him to try.

_Unless I just gave him pointers and fresh motivation on top of it._

Yon puts his tea cup down, with surgical precision. “Whyever would I do that?” It’s so neutral Theron is immediately on his guard.

But he hasn’t made it in the SIS by throwing in the towel the first time a Sith frowned his way. Even if said Sith is his _lover_ and he hates himself a little for what he is doing.

_My job. I’m doing my job, that’s it._

… he still feels like crap.

“Let’s say your last meeting was a bit explosive. Wasn’t it? Inquiring minds and all that. You understand.”

“I see.” The cybernetic replacement for the hand their Commander reportedly smashed, curls into a fist. Theron carefully doesn’t look at it. Or flinch.

“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” Dying inside or not, by now he can snark under fire.

It hurts, the way Yon makes himself busy fussing with the teapot, avoiding his eyes. Especially with what he says next. “When our Commander dropped me in that tomb, he buried me alive.” He might as well be speculating about the weather. Suddenly Theron has lost all appetite for the dinner they had planned to have. “Do you know what a K’lor’slug is?”

“Sure.” And he wishes he didn’t. “Don’t they infest starships, or something?”

“Oh, that too. I landed a few stories down in a breeding chamber. They were trying to tear my face off before I could blink. My lightsabers were gone. I had to fight them off with my bare hands.” Yon pauses, attention firmly on the crockery. He wipes a stray drop of tea off the glaze. “Or, you know, hand.”

The uneasy feeling in the pit of Theron’s stomach only grows. This is going nowhere good.

“It took me three days to dig myself out. When I did, the occupation was over and they threw me into a cell because I hid my students away so they wouldn’t be _burned up_ between the invasion force and our _actual_ warriors. I was stuck in there without medical attention until Nox came in to interrogate me and let me off with a slap to the wrist. And the worst of it?”

Yon looks up and Theron immediately wishes he hadn’t. He finds himself staring down a bubbling volcano. He has never had enough sensitivity to be worth training, no matter who his mother is, but he swears he can feel the heat of his lover’s rage.

“I got out of that cell block and I had to hear that my master was _dead_.” A tremor goes through the table, tea set and all. “Not only that, it wasn’t enough that the Jedi _killed him_ on the damned floor of the chambers of the Dark Council defending our heritage, _no_. They left his body there to rot. Their clean-up threw it out to the tuk’ata. There wasn’t enough left to be _identified_ much less _buried_.” At the last word something in the room squeals in protest. This time hiding his flinch isn’t really an option. _Kriff. What did I step into here?_

No wonder Darth something-or-other had sounded so familiar. It’s a bit late for that realization.

“My master was a _good man_ and an exemplary Sith. He died honorably and they treated him like _garbage_. He will never have a burial ground, as he should by rights. If I was going to kill our Commander for anything, you can be sure I’d kill him for _that_. Him and _every other Jedi_ to set foot on Korriban that day.”

It’s not exaggeration. Theron knows him well enough, he means every word. But he hasn’t, he _wouldn’t_ , would he? Frozen with the horror of what he might have to report and _he has to, doesn’t he?_ he watches the Sith close his eyes, breathe deep. "Yon-"

The laugh that cuts him off is as bitter as any of Theron's own thoughts in the wake of his escape from Revan. It's terrible to listen to and such a relief he can't breathe. Because that stagnant anger? He felt it, once. “Save it. Do you think I don't know? Where would we get if we started murdering each other now? We’d never stop and Zakuul would stomp on us like an _anthill_." Slowly all of the heat and darkness melts into a sorrow Theron wishes he could wipe away. Or at least  _not be the cause of_. In more ways than one. "Master Soverus will just have to take my inaction in defence of his memory out of my hide when I get to the other side. If there’s enough left of him to do that.”

With the poise of a Core-bred socialite Yon reclaims his teacup, though his self-control has too many cracks to make it perfect. “Do you have what you were looking for, Agent Shan?”

There’s really not a lot he can think to say to that. His mind works at a snail’s pace, processing the intel he had wanted and suddenly could very emphatically do without.

“… should I get my stuff or am I sleeping on the couch?”

There’s a long pause.

“Why don’t you ask me that again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I can- I can do that.”

 

\---

 

_Later that night, on a graveyard shift in the control room:_

 

“Lana?” Theron's been working his courage up all evening. Or maybe he has spent the same amount of time moping on the console he's supposed to be working at. By how Lana throws him looks that are more worried than pissed-off he knows which one she'd say it is. Funny, how they got here. There's really no one else he can ask, is there?

“Yes?”

“What do I get my Sith boyfriend for a sorry-I-stomped-on-your-feelings-to-get-information apology gift?”

 _“What?_ ”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel compelled to remind everyone that Sar is an unreliable narrator. He sees the world through his own eyes.  
> It’s possible and plausible, even, that the Jedi and the Republic did give the enemies that fell in the Korriban Incursion some sort of funeral service. Not least for practical reasons.  
> Only… well. A Jedi’s idea of such a ceremony is cremation which would also be very convenient in that situation. Now, the Sith go for full-on ritual burial. If you’re worth it, at least.  
> Both of these have more or less proven implications and effects within the boundaries of their respective belief system.  
> Something to think about.
> 
> Also. Feelings. Egads. So many feelings.


End file.
